


Don't Want The World To See Me

by Dooka



Series: (just want you to know who i am) [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Companion Piece, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I finished this monster, M/M, Multi, Taekook just really need a hug, but close enough, i did it, like half a year late, preferably from each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 05:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12125982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dooka/pseuds/Dooka
Summary: Jungkook thinks that everything hinges on the exact moment he lays eyes on Kim Taehyung.OrJungkook's P.O.V





	Don't Want The World To See Me

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's baaaaaack
> 
> yep, it's this sad emo again, here to tell you that BTS owns my ass.
> 
> Anyways, here is the companion fic for When Everything's Made to Be Broken, with Kookie's POV.
> 
> I know, I know, this should've been done about half a year ago, but procrastination and schoolwork have not been my friends clearly. Also, for some reason, certain parts of the story just would not cooperate with me. i had to rewrite several scenes so many times I just wanted to abandon it all together.
> 
> (Shout out to Isa who kept me on track and encouraged me to keep going, cause she wanted to read it and find out what happened lol. Thank her for this fic.)
> 
> (As a side note, has everyone seen DNA yet? Listened to the album on spotify? I mean like....Holy Shit??? I was not expecting to feel so attacked)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Jungkook thinks that everything hinges on the exact moment he lays eyes on Kim Taehyung.

**_..._ **

Jungkook first meets Yejin because of Taehyung, ironically enough.

He’s known her in passing for a while of course, her being an honorary member of the drama club, and therefore spending a lot of time with both the drama and dance kids that have basically formed a joint club.

(Probably because of Jimin and Taehyung, in all honesty, because trying to tear them apart is like trying to keep the sun from burning; directly opposite it’s nature and utterly destructive to all around it.)

She doesn’t even register as a girl in his mind, none of the girls in and around the dance club or the drama club do, really. They’re people he is comfortable spending time with, and that’s that. 

“Um, Jungkook-Oppa” Yejin mumbles, as she approaches him slowly, as if to keep him from startling like a frightened animal, as she always seems to behave around him.

It’s a cool day in autumn, right around the beginning of school right before their second year of high school.

“Yes, Yejin-ssi?” he replies as he glances around, searching for a glimpse of Taehyung’s bouncing steps or flailing limbs as he explains something in that animated way of his.

“I-um, I’ve really liked you for a long time. I was wondering if you felt the same way?”

It comes completely out of the left field, and he says as much. His brain begins frantically searching for signs of her crush in his memories, second guessing every interaction they’ve ever had. Gestures he’d just brushed off as shyness or kindness suddenly come to mind. How far back had this even started, and was he really that oblivious, and what was happening?

(Of course, if he had been thinking rationally instead of double time, he’d have realized that of course not everything was about romance, and that Yejin had never been the type to beat around the bush for ages, she had always been the type to see what she wanted and go get it.)

“That’s okay.” Yejin says earnestly, brushing her still black hair behind her ear before twirling a strand around a finger. “Dating exists so that people who are attracted to each other can learn about each other and figure out if they’ll work together or not.”

And so he agrees, somewhat hesitantly, if only because it’s the thing to do. When you’re fifteen or sixteen you’re  _ supposed _ to have a relationship with a pretty girl and you’re  _ supposed  _ to play sports with your friends. That’s just how it works. Even Taehyung has had a girlfriend or two by now; the only one remaining a ‘single pringle’ (as Hoseok so affectionately calls him whenever it’s brought up) is him.

He never really means for it to last; doesn’t expect Yejin to not give up once she realizes what dating him is  _ really _ like. But she doesn’t and one date becomes two, becomes three, becomes three dozen, and she’s  _ comfortable _ ; at least he knows how he’s supposed to behave around her. Even if they fight and break it off and he goes out with another girl for a week or two as they get older, they still always somehow end up back where they started.

She is safe.

(Taehyung is not.)

(He never really knows why, he only knows instinctively that Taehyung is fire and light, and if he gets too close, he will burn for him.)

So he stays with her, even if he never feels anything other than protectiveness or a lazy sort of fond affection for her.

He feels guilty, especially when she’s so good to him (making him food on the days that he is too busy studying for exams, making him laugh when he feels homesick, things like that), but still continues the charade and tries to love her the way she clearly loves him. 

(It never really works. It feels too much like an act, like going through the motions of someone else's life.)

Really though, she’s so busy trying to figure herself out (going through several ‘phases’ throughout the time they’re together) that it’s honestly like dating six different people over the span of several years. With both of them trying to get through school and being so busy all the time, she never asks him why (or seems to notice that) they never hang out unless they’re studying or doing...‘alternative activities’.

It’s fine. He’s happy, for the most part.

(He finds himself constantly drawn to Taehyung, regardless. These instincts are like a particularly violent storm, beautiful and inevitable, and yet destined to devastate everyone involved.)

**_..._ **

It’s only around a year into their relationship when Jungkook and Yejin have their first big fight.

(In fact, Taehyung later names it ‘The Fight’ (Part I) (long story) when they talk about it later.)

It’s not the little squabbles they’re accustomed to, or the slight digs that hurt just a bit more than they’re meant to, or the annoyed silences that they lapse into when they have nothing further to discuss, or the lesser fights that always end in apologies and awkward silences; it’s the kind of fight that sears onto your insides and briefly makes you into something ugly, something less than human.

He hardly remembers how the fight begins, probably something about not spending time with her very often lately, but devolves into a screaming match where they shove harsh words and accusations of everything that bothers them about the other into the open air, raw and writhing and burning like a live wire, making them flush in exertion and bringing tears to her eyes as he slams her front door on the way out, having not cooled down any in the past half an hour of awkward stewing in opposite sides of her small studio apartment.

His mind is cloudy and anxious and he doesn’t want to go home yet, doesn’t want his roommate to see him in this wrecked state.

In fact, there’s only one person he trusts to see him in this way, a state that he has not let free around anyone in many, many moons.

Before he’s even aware of it, his feet have carried his tired form to the front steps of Taehyung’s place.

The building Taehyung lives in is sandwiched between two nearly identical buildings, surrounded by several other identical apartment complexes. If it weren’t for his strange neighbours’ bright yellow sun decals in their windows, Jungkook wouldn’t have a clue where Taehyung lives.

“Jungkookie?” His head snaps up to the steps.

Taehyung’s eyes are glinting and a little foggy from sleep, gleaming in the glow of the lights from the house that radiate around him, bathing him in sunshine and making him look ethereal. Though his hair is sleep mussed and he is wearing a pair of shorts and an over large t-shirt, Jungkook can’t help but wonder how he still manages to look so damn beautiful like that.

“Hyung,” he says hoarsely, his voice raw and ruined from the screaming match and his harsh breathing as he’d stormed off.

Taehyung’s eyes trail over him carefully and he reaches a hand out to encircle Jungkook’s wrist, lightly, like he’s scared of hurting him.

“Are you okay?,” he asks, with that deep voice of his, better than the strongest healing balm. “I think you better come inside.”

It’s not for lack of trying that he goes to Taehyung whenever he feels hurt and vulnerable, it’s just that the older boy makes him feel so comfortable and warm that he can’t resist that small form of comfort if he can have it.

“Maybe you should break up with her then, if you’re both hurting so much?” suggests Taehyung after hearing the details of the fight that come spilling from Jungkook’s mouth in a flood, as if they’re all scrambling to tumble free from his lips.

“I don’t know.” sighs Jungkook “This is the first fight where we haven’t really made up in our own way after a few minutes.”

Taehyung eyes him carefully, his warm brown eyes sparkling in the light, as if they’re backlit by amber witchlights.

Although their friends often joke that Taehyung is ditzy and oblivious, they all know that he is perhaps the most observant and intuitive of the boys. Although he may say things that don’t exactly reflect that, he’s always been there for anyone that asks, offering surprisingly insightful advice in that serious way that throws everyone off.

(Jungkook envies him, sometimes, for being able to convey and understand everything that he’s never been able to, with a natural, effortless grace.)

Taehyung’s eyes are sad for a quiet moment, almost going missed by the younger boy, if not for the clear abortive movement that he makes as he looks away from him.

“You know I’m here for you if you need me right? I’ll always be here.”

Jungkook laughs, a little breathlessly, wrinkling his nose in exaggerated disgust “Wow, Hyung, that’s so greasy.”

Taehyung laughs along, barely missing a beat.

Jungkook is suddenly struck by the intense desire to make sure Taehyung is showered in all the love and affection he deserves, wants to make him smile that bright grin that could light up an entire city; wants to make him feel the same way as he makes Jungkook feel. 

(He feels a little guilty that he keeps heaping all of his problems with Yejin onto Taehyung’s shoulders.)

“But yeah,” he says quietly, once their laughs subside “I know.”

Taehyung’s dark eyes latch onto his, holding his gaze evenly for a few moments.

A smile creeps up his face, growing brighter and larger every second, his eyes forming little crescents and his nose scrunching like a bunny.

“Aigoo, what are we going to do with you, Jungkookie?” he grins, brighter than the harsh kitchen lights, the sun, and all of the stars in the sky.

“Can we play Overwatch?” asks Jungkook around the sudden lump in his throat, hoping to divert his attention to something else.

“Okay.” Aquicises Taehyung, rising from his seat to set up.

Jungkook watches him go, swallowing nervously. 

They play late into the night, the strange tension from earlier forgotten for the most part.

But when Jungkook wakes the next morning, tangled together atop a pillow fort where they’d fallen asleep halfway through the game, Jungkook can’t help but to groggily examine Taehyung’s sleeping features.

In the gentle glow of the rising sun, Taehyung looks younger somehow, softer and more innocent. Jungkook won’t deny that it makes his heart stutter in its steady rhythm, watching his soft face snuggle into his shoulder more as they shift, not here, where it is bright and too early to think fully.

Maybe that’s why it’s just so  _ easy _ to fall into Taehyung’s orbit. He craves his attention constantly, like a small planet circling the sun. Even truer still, is while he rotates around Taehyung like he’s the only thing he’ll ever need, their paths somehow just... always seem to  _ miss _ .

**  
(It’s harder to remember, in these moments, why he isn’t  ~~_ can’t be _ ~~ a little bit in love with Taehyung.) **

 

**_..._ **

 

Yejin seems to fall out of love like they do in novels; slowly, then diving off the cliff head first.

 

He hangs out with Taehyung and the guys more and more, as Yejin hangs out with her own friends. It’s always worked for them before, so why mess with a good thing?

 

Only, it doesn’t last. And so their screaming matches become more and more frequent, and more and more violent in their ferocity, what with Yejin beginning to finish her degree and noticing that they don’t and haven’t really ever hung out like in textbook romances. Because, the thing is, while they may have had a thing or two in common in middle school and high school (which pretty much began and ended with performing arts), they no longer have those things in common anymore. They simply have to face that they contradict each other too much. While Yejin is happy to go out with friends to clubs, Jungkook would rather stay home with Tae and watch movies or play video games; While Yejin wants to go out and wander the streets for things to buy, Jungkook would rather go to an amusement park or an arcade. Even their thoughts hardly seem to coincide anymore. While Jungkook is impassioned in anything that he believes in, Yejin is calm and laid back, only confining herself to an opinion where necessary.

 

But even despite this, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt when they hurt each other. Even if he isn’t in love with her, he does care about her a lot. They’d grown up together and gone through a lot together (or mostly together, he doesn’t really count the other somewhat random girls that he dated in between.)

 

(He doesn’t realize until much, much later that they all bear a somewhat embarrassing resemblance to a certain boxy grinned friend of his).

 

It would’ve been easier to leave if he hates her, or if he feels nothing at all, or if she’s secretly some awful bitch, like in the movies.

 

But she isn’t. And he isn’t the oblivious love interest that one day wakes up and realizes what’s right in front of him.

 

No, he’s just screwed up. He has no idea how to deal with his own feelings, to decypher what they are and what they mean for him.

 

(Or maybe he does, and just doesn’t want to deal with the complicated fallout. It’s simpler this way, and no one gets hurt but him, which is the only really acceptable outcome in this situation.)

 

And so he retreats into Taehyung’s light, the place where he simultaneously feels safest, and most vulnerable.

 

(Sometimes, in the early hours of morning, when all is quiet and his thoughts are loud,and the only thing awake in their still apartment is him and a single light bulb they’d gotten for the hallway (long story); he lets himself admit that he might have more than platonic feelings for Kim Taehyung.)

 

(Sometimes he hates his inability to stop thinking.)

 

It’s not that he doesn’t try his damndest to love them.

 

When he dates other girls on his breaks from Yejin, (and even, sometimes, from Yejin herself) each seem to leave him similarly. It’s almost a predictable pattern by the end of the fourth girl.

 

“Who is Taehyung?” they all ask at first, because he seems to have never ending tales of the antics they get up to together.

 

“My best friend.” he always replies, though it never quite feels like a strong enough label for what they are, for how he feels around Taehyung. 

 

(He’d call them brothers, but that doesn’t seem to fit either.)

 

Later, they ask him, “where have you been?”, as if they don’t know. As if they can’t tell that if he isn’t at home or at school, then he is almost definitely with Taehyung or the whole gang.

 

“With friends,” he replies simply.

 

Even later, they doubt him, begin calling him during all hours of the day, getting paranoid about every moment he is not with them.

 

“You’re not cheating on me are you?” they ask

 

“No.” he says, and it’s the truth.

 

(He feels strangely guilty and angry for no reason. He isn’t cheating, so why should he feel bad? But then he thinks of his poor mother, whose husband fell out of love with her and fell more in love with work everyday, to the point that it ruined them. He thinks of how his mother still doesn’t trust his father to be loyal to her, still believes he may be having an affair.)

 

(It’s not the clear way in which these girls believe so easily the worst of him though, that makes him so damn angry. It’s the fact that they can’t find it within themselves to trust him and his actions, that he won’t stray and that he will stay with them.)

 

But he knows why they won’t trust him. Emotionally, he knows many would describe him as distant, cold, perhaps even shy. But he knows the truth. He does feel things, (arguably too much, how does Taehyung do it?) but he can’t make them obvious to others.

 

They don’t look to his subtle gestures, they look to his words and his fanciful attempts at romance. 

 

(Too bad that words have never been something he could grasp easily.)

 

And so they leave, most citing Taehyung and the boys, some telling him to get his head out of his ass and to just tell Taehyung he loves him, as if it’s that easy, as if he can just do that, and the sun will still come up and the world will still spin.

 

(Maybe for the rest of the world, they will, but not for him.)

 

Most meet Taehyung somewhere around the second month of dating. 

 

Those that do, leave faster than the others. 

 

(These are usually the ones that tell him to confess, as though they know how he feels, with their pitying smiles and sad, sad eyes. As though  _ he _ knows what he feels, can decypher the tangled mess that are his feelings in any way.)

 

(He denies it all until there is no breath left in his burning lungs, but no one listens, no one understands the depth of his thoughts.)

 

(And damn it all if he does what they tell him to.)

 

**_..._ **

 

“Yah!” says Yejin, her eyebrows furrowed impatiently, “Are you even listening?”

 

He blinks at her blearily in confusion.

 

(It’s  _ way _ too early for this shit.) 

 

She had basically dumped him, landing him in this mess in the first place, but here she is, at his doorstep once again, doing what exactly?

 

He doesn’t remember, but then again, he doesn’t really care all that much anymore. 

 

The world has become drowned out by his thoughts, as if everything’s coming to him from underwater, or through a thousand mile tunnel.

 

His hangover really is a nasty piece of work.

 

(His chest hurts more.)

 

“I’m sorry, Yejin,” Sighing, he drops his face into his hands tiredly. “Did I forget one of our dates or something, again? I thought we broke up?”

 

Yejin’s expression goes from angry to sad in a split second, the furrow in her brows smoothing and the snarl that had been rising on her lips softening.

 

“Did you really think that I’d break up with you over something so small? I said that because I was angry, but I didn’t mean to make you think I don’t care about you”

 

It all sounds like too many excuses and not enough reason, and she knows it.

 

“...I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah” she says finally.

 

He can see the look on her face, he knows what it must cost her to lay down her pride this way. After so many years of knowing her, he knows that her pride is something she doesn’t take lightly.

 

“Oh,” his gut churns with even more guilt and confusion. “That’s...that’s okay.”

 

(It’s not.)

 

“Do you maybe want to go out for dinner and a movie tonight? So I can make it up to you?” She twists a strand of hair around her finger, a nervous habit she’s had since he first met her, so long ago.

 

“Sorry, Yejin-ah,” he says before he can even think about his answer “I’m really tired today. Do you mind if I take a rain check?”

 

“Oh, that’s okay,” she shrugs “How about I make us dinner and we can have a night in?”

 

“Actually...” he begins slowly, not quite sure how to explain the chaos that is his mental state right now. The type that requires solitude to even  _ begin _ to organize.

 

“No. No!” exclaims Yejin in frustration, clearly reading the expression on his face. “I am your  _ girlfriend _ , not some piece of ass that will suffice to screw when you’re horny.”

 

He feels his heart drop deep into his stomach at her words.    
  


“You’re always making excuses about being too busy, and when  _ I _ make time for you, it’s always ‘I’m too tired,’ or ‘I have a big test I have to study for,’ or ‘Sorry, I already have plans with Tae and the guys,’ or some other bullshit.”

 

He looks at her,  _ really _ looks at her, for the first time in a while.There are tired bags under her eyes from long nights spent studying (and worrying clearly), and her mouth is set into a hard line as she frowns at him.

 

“I’m sorry, Yejin.” He opens his mouth to say more, but he can’t think of what else he  _ can _ say, right now; what he even has a  _ right _ to say.

 

“You always are.” says Yejin as she turns on her heel and scoops up her bag. “Call me when you know what you want from me, then. I can tell that I’m not wanted here.”

 

“Yejin-” begins Jungkook awkwardly.

 

“I guess we really  _ do _ need to take a break from all of this.” she says firmly as she slips her shoes on. “I can’t try if you won’t. A relationship is two sides, and I’m sick of being both of them.”

 

(He hates that he might have ruined the innocence and exuberance she once had. She really had marvelled at the possibilities, back then, when they’d first met.)

 

“I’m just  _ so _ tired of always being second to  _ everything; _ an  _ afterthought _ .” she says quietly, defeatedly; her back still to him and the door swung wide. “If you didn’t want me so much you should’ve just said so in the beginning, it would have saved us all that trouble.”

  
The door shuts with a resounding  _ slam _ .

 

**_..._ **

 

“Jungkook?” asks Namjoon as he slinks in the door as quietly as he’s able.

 

“Ah, Hyung.” Jungkook says noncommittally as he glances up from where he’s been staring unseeingly into the television screen. It’s playing some variety program he doesn’t care about, and doesn’t possess the headspace to actually watch.

 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep right now? It’s-” Namjoon pauses to check his watch, “4 A.M.”

 

“Oh,” says Jungkook sheepishly, “Sorry Hyung, I didn’t realise the time.”

 

“Don’t you have to get up early to get to Taehyung’s for your weekly anime marathon tomorrow?” asks Namjoon as he drops his bag onto the floor and melts into his usual divot on the otherwise pristine couch.

 

“Oh-I,” begins Jungkook, awkwardly. 

 

A thought flashes through his mind. Taehyung lying under him so enticingly, arching under his fingers-

 

Nope. He will  _ not _ go there right now, not after he’d run out like that. 

 

But really, he’d been entirely unprepared to deal with any of that at the time, what else could he have done?

 

(He still isn’t.)

 

“Ah,” says Namjoon with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look “Did you have to cancel for a date? I noticed that you haven’t gone out with Yejin for a while. Is she finally making you take her out?”

 

“Uh...yeah, Hyung.” says Jungkook awkwardly. He hates lying to him, but he just wants a day to process what's happened, seeing as he hadn’t managed to get over the shock enough to do that today.

 

“You okay?” asks Namjoon, his eyebrows furrowed slightly

 

“Yeah,” nods Jungkook as reassuringly as he can “Just tired.”

 

“Me too,” sighs Namjoon as he stands and stretches with a grunt, “I’m going to bed.”

 

“Okay,” agrees Jungkook “I’ll just be here for a little longer.”

 

Namjoon saunters lazily to his room before pausing in front of his door. 

 

“You know you can always tell me anything, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Jungkook manages to get out after a long pause, long after Namjoon’s gone into his room, feeling worse than ever, “I know.”

 

**_..._ **

 

“Jeon Jungkook, it’s been two weeks since you’ve moved from that spot.” says Namjoon as he strides purposefully into the room, rather reminiscent of Jin (which is really no surprise).

 

Jungkook pauses in his Twitter scroll to look questioningly at his Hyung.

 

“Jimin’s having a party, tonight.  _ Please, come. _ ”

 

“I’m-”

 

“And  _ don’t _ say you’re busy, I know very well that your exams aren’t for  _ at least _ a month.”

 

Jungkook studies Namjoon’s tired but firm expression for a moment. He takes a moment to identify the look on his face as... _ worried _ , about  _ him _ . 

 

‘ _ Does he know what’s happened? _ ’ he thinks, startled, but if he does, he hides it well.

 

“Okay, Hyung, I’ll be there.” he says finally.

 

“Put this on.” replies Namjoon, tossing some clothes in his direction. “And  _ please _ , for the _ love of god _ , take a shower.”

 

Jungkook cautiously lifts and arm to smell himself, and  _ yeah _ , he  _ really _ needs to shower. He hasn’t really been paying attention to things like that in the last little while, living off of ramen noodles, going to class, and absentmindedly scrolling through his various social media feeds while he thinks about Taehyung. 

 

(Or rather, actively tries  _ not _ to think about Taehyung.)

 

After the first couple of days, he realized that whatever his thoughts were leading to would likely hurt everyone involved in the end. Ergo,  _ not thinking about it _ .

 

(Except he’s  _ always _ thinking about it.)

 

But it’s not as if it would work regardless. It feels like they were always destined to be best friends, and he knows he can’t live without Tae in his life. If that means that Tae needs time to sort himself out, Jungkook will gladly give it to him.

 

Because Jungkook has seen romantic love, seen how it destroys people from the inside out, burning them away, and he won’t allow that to happen with them.

 

“I’ll be waiting here.” says Namjoon.

 

By the time Jungkook gets out of the shower, they’re fashionably late, and Jungkook is ready to go back home. Or get drunk off his ass. Preferably both.

 

“Hey Jungkookie,” smiles Jimin, looking radiant, if a little tired, as always.

 

“Hi Jiminie,” grins Jungkook, easily falling into their usual pattern of banter, providing him with much needed comfort. 

 

“Yah!” Jimin’s face immediately becomes a scowl, though that mischievous glint in his eyes remains. “That’s  _ Hyung _ to you.”

 

“Sorry  _ Mini-Hyung _ ” giggles Jungkook as Yoongi deposits a plastic cup in his hand.

 

“Hi Hyung, how’s that song coming?” Jungkook asks, cheekily ignoring Jimin’s frustrated sputtering.

 

“It’s alright for now,  _ brat _ .” says Yoongi. “Come on in.”

 

The party is already in full swing, sweaty bodies grinding on each other in a tangled mess of sticky, slick flesh in the middle of the dining room. Jungkook makes a face, he’ll never get used to the sour smell of sweat and alcohol that always seems to seep into the room during parties.

 

“Jungkook,” a familiar voice breathes.

 

“Yejin.” he replies awkwardly. She looks pretty tonight, bits of glitter cling to her eyelashes and cheeks and cascade from her hair, as if she’d dumped a tub of glitter over her head, her hair now short, dyed blue at the ends and styled into a wavy bob that frames her considerably less tired looking face.

 

“It’s been a while.” she says

 

“Yeah.” He isn’t sure what else there is to say to her. There are so many things he wishes he could say, but somehow the words just seem to escape him, leaving him with plethora of empty space and discomfort between them.

 

“I’ve...I’ve missed you.” she draws closer, close enough that he can count the bits of glitter littering her cheeks like kodachrome disco freckles, can see the fog of alcohol dancing in her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry.” That ugly guilty feeling rears its head from the depths of that pit in his gut.

 

“I’m sorry, too.” Her mouth is set in a hard line, and he is reminded of their conversation barely two weeks ago. “I should never have said that shit to you. It’s not your fault that we’re so busy all the time.”

 

He is not  _ nearly _ drunk enough for this, yet.

 

He knocks back his drink in a few swallows, welcoming the burning sensation it leaves in its wake.

 

‘ _ God that is some potent shit. _ ’ he thinks as he makes a face ‘ _ Yoongi is definitely not out of practice there. _ ’

 

He swipes a drink from the counter and downs that as well for something to do; to avoid the awkwardness in the air as Yejin joins him, downing a cup of liquor like a pro, (although, technically, she’s more of a pro than he is...) and grinning widely, her eyes slowly becoming more unfocused. He isn’t sure how many cups she’s had already, but she is clearly well on her way to the hangover of a lifetime.

 

“Can you just...can you just stay there for a second? And close your eyes?” she asks, after what feels like several years and several drinks later, “I promise I won’t yell at you again.”

 

Chuckling awkwardly at what he knows was a sad attempt at defusing the tension, Jungkook slips his eyes shut, blocking out the rowdy and merry partygoers, and the look of fragile hope in Yejin’s face.

 

“Thanks.” he feels her speak more than hears her. He feels her breath tickling his cheeks, but his brain, slow from all of the sudden alcohol, doesn’t register what this means until her lips are on his.

 

And then her hands are in his hair, and he pulls her in by her waist as naturally as breathing, born from years of practice. She tastes like alcohol and that citrus tang that comes from limes, and her scent (sweat and mint and something fruity, like eating fruit in the summer with Taehyung and the others as they laugh at the sticky liquid dripping down all of their arms) fills his nostrils.

 

It’s just so... _ wrong _ , though.

 

It’s so wrong, in fact, that he really has no idea how to articulate it. Maybe it’s a feeling akin to waking up in a strange place with no idea who you are or how you got there. Maybe it’s the feeling of forgetting something, but having no idea what that is, or if there really was anything forgotten in the first place. Maybe it’s starting a jigsaw puzzle and finding that the box was full of border pieces, or just the feeling of ants marching up your spine.

 

Fragments of thought spring to mind, unbidden, of Taehyung. Warm hands ghosting up his back and into his hair gently, patiently, unhurried, how he tastes so sweet, like hot cocoa and cinnamon, the smell of home, of warm laundry and lazy Sundays watching anime, of laughing as they stumble around town, drunk on each other’s company.   
  


(It’s too much. Everything is suddenly just _too_ _much_ and _God,_ why can’t he _breathe?_ )

 

He doesn’t even register the he’s stopped kissing Yejin until she pulls back to look at him.

 

“Are you okay?” Her face is confused, but her eyes are tired. He thinks that somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, she really does know that they’ve been over for a while; longer than either of them are willing to admit.

 

“I...I can’t do this.” He manages as he backs away from her angry and downtrodden face, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry”

 

(He seems to be apologizing  _ a lot _ in the last little while.)

 

As quickly as he can manage, he darts out of the room. He makes the quick executive decision to  _ run _ all the way home if he has to. The street is beginning to swirl, the colours mixing and blending together in a nauseating kaleidoscope. When he finally manages to get his brain under control, he’s four blocks from the apartment and out of breath for an entirely different reason than earlier.

 

‘ _ Nope, _ ’ he thinks resolutely ‘ _ not thinking about it. _ ’

  
(He almost wants to smack  _ himself _ in the face.)

 

**_..._ **

 

“C’mon Jungkookie, please?” pleads Jimin shamelessly

 

It hasn’t been very many days since “The Party Incident” as he knew Taehyung would have dubbed it (which leaves a bitter pang in his heart as he thinks it), and already Jimin wants to invite him over again, to talk about what’s happened and why they haven’t heard from him once since the party.

 

(“What’s with the complete radio silence? We’ve heard from  _ Namjoon _ more than you, and he’s barely left his studio for a  _ week _ , because he’s writing that new song.” He isn’t wrong.)

 

It’s not that he’s ignoring everyone really, it’s just that after that night, he’d had a lot to consider; the mess he’s made and if he can even fix it, where he should even begin. He knows he isn’t the best with words, (or vulnerability for that matter) but he’s trying, even if it doesn’t seem to be counting for much.

 

But he supposes that as long as this isn’t an intervention or the spanish inquisition, he’ll be fine.

 

He supposes he needs their help anyways, although whether it’s Jin’s help or Jimin’s help that he needs, he’s unsure.

 

(Jin, who has spent the better part of the last few years in an undefined on again, off again relationship with Namjoon.)

 

(Jimin, who, while having been in a proper established relationship for the better part of three years, had had such an easy time of it, that he is unlikely to know the solution to the problems plaguing his mind anyways.)

 

So he flies down the road in Namjoon’s passenger seat, which Namjoon had all but ordered him into the moment that Jimin had convinced him to come and visit.

 

He would be more suspicious if he wasn’t so desperate or tired.

 

Namjoon gazes at him for a long moment when they finally arrive. The street lights cast shadows over his face and makes it look older, more angular; accentuating the dark purple circles around his eyes, that are beginning to look more like bruises than under eye circles.

 

“I hope you sort yourselves out.” he says finally as Jungkook gets out of the car, as though he couldn’t find it within himself to actually utter the thing he’d originally meant to say.

 

“Me too.” replies Jungkook as he watches Namjoon drive off, though he knows that he won’t hear him.

 

“Ah, Jungkook, you’re here.” Jimin stands on the steps of his apartment complex, hopping down the steps two at a time to enclose his fingers around Jungkook’s wrist.

 

“Come in, already.” he hears Yoongi sigh tiredly from inside.

 

With a wicked grin, Jimin tugs him inside. Jungkook could resist if he really wanted to (his muscles aren’t just for show), but he doesn’t really want to, at least, not right now.

 

Jungkook is beginning to expect the spanish inquisition.

 

‘ _ Tae must have talked to them already. _ ’ he thinks awkwardly.  _ ‘God, I hope they won’t kill me.’ _

 

(Hell hath no fury like an angry Kim Seokjin, as they all had learned on many an occasion (but that’s another story entirely).)

 

Jimin changes direction abruptly, all but tossing him into the spare bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it before he can get a word in edgewise.

 

“HYUNG!” he yells, completely caught off balance “WHAT THE HELL?!”

 

“Sorry, Jungkookie, but it’s for your own good, okay?” says Jimin, muffled slightly through the door.

 

Jiggling the door handle a couple of times, he slams his fist into the door a few times for good measure.

 

It may not actually accomplish anything, but it does make him feel a bit better about letting himself be caught off guard.

 

He settles into cool sheets disgruntledly, gathering his jacket around himself a little tighter and pulling out his phone to preoccupy himself before whatever it is that Jimin thinks locking him in a room will help is finished.

 

He’s just settling into his Instagram feed when he hears a voice that he’d know anywhere; as a whisper in the wind, a muted call from ten feet away, even, he’s convinced, a yell in the masses of a concert at an Olympic stadium.

 

He freezes in place as the door swings open, revealing Yoongi and Jimin in nice clothes, grim smiles on their faces.

 

‘ _ Damn it, _ ’ he thinks ‘ _ This better not be...’ _

 

“I’m sorry, Taetae,” says Jimin as Taehyung’s back comes into view, decked out in a long brown coat that Jungkook knows for a fact is warm and soft.

 

“Don’t forget the advice we gave you,” says Yoongi before shoving him backwards into the room before he can react.

 

The door slams shut and the lock clicks into place and Jungkook almost curses out loud. Trust his friends to come up with a half-baked scheme to get them to talk without actually consulting all sides of the story.

 

“YAH PARK JIMIN! MIN YOONGI!” Taehyung shouts, and god does Jungkook feel bad thinking about how much he missed the sound of his voice.

 

(Missed all of him really, his wide back (though not as wide as Jin’s), his smile, his warmth and floppy hair, his bright eyes, the way he teased him and let him tease right back, the way they ran around after each other until they were entirely out of breath, the way their bodies fit together as they cuddled and watched anime, just... _ him _ . Everything that he was and had come to mean.)

 

“You aren’t coming out until you sort yourselves out.” replies Yoongi, “I’m tired of dealing with your dumb dancing around each other.”

 

“We’ll be back soon!” calls Jimin. The front door swings shut with an audible click.

 

Jungkook watches as Taehyung swings around, unable to move from the weight of his piercing gaze crushing all the air out of his lungs. He seems to look him over for a few moments, and Jungkook wishes (not for the first time either) that he could know what Taehyung is thinking. The moonlight makes the dark planes across his face deepen, making it more angular, and washing his pale face in light blues that only seem to highlight the gaunt and tired qualities in his usually soft features. His shoulders are tense, but slumped, as if the weight of the world has been crushing him under it. His eyes are suspiciously wet, and Jungkook feels like the worst person to ever exist. To see Taehyung like this (completely wrecked, but trying to hide it, as if he must hide from Jungkook at all costs) is the most painful and heartbreaking thing that Jungkook has ever experienced.

 

“Ah-uh...Hi Hyung,” he says, his voice cracking slightly at the sudden barrage of emotions he feels at seeing Taehyung again, he can feel his eyes stinging, but refuses to let a single tear fall.

 

(He has no right to be upset, after all, he is the one that walked out.)

 

And just like that, a wall slams down between them, Taehyung’s eyes becoming hard and distant as he turns his eyes to the floor and walks past the bed to the window to stare out into night. 

 

(Jungkook’s eyes follow him the whole way.)

 

“Sorry they’ve dragged you into this.” says Taehyung, after a long moment. “You can just ignore me until they come back.”

 

He presses his back to the wall under the window. Jungkook isn’t sure what to say to that. Have they really become awkward strangers so quickly? 

 

(He definitely doesn’t think about the last thing he’d said to him. ( _ “Just leave me alone for a while, okay?” _ ) So blind with panic that he’d been only mildly aware of the gravity of his actions until later, he hadn’t even realized how it would look or make Taehyung feel to just leave like that.)

 

Maybe it’s the way the darkness feels like a mask, like sitting anonymously behind a computer screen, where he can just say what he needs to and deal with the consequences later, but he can admit it to himself now. Why he hasn’t been able to think (or stop thinking) about what’s going on.

 

He’s scared.

 

(Terrified.)

 

Even if he knows that it’s irrational, that it’s stupid and makes no sense.

 

(He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.)

 

(The more he tries, the worse it gets)

 

Taehyung breaks their intense eye contact again, as he turns his gaze to the floor under him again.

 

It’s agonizing, the way Jungkook can’t tell what to do. With Taehyung, everything has always been so easy, there has never been any need for him to tell him how he feels straight up, as he always seemed to just...understand.

 

“Actually...Can we...can we talk?” asks Jungkook timidly, his dark hair falling in front of his face as he stares at the sheets under him, dragging his hand across the top delicately, as if too much pressure would break the moment

 

“What is there to talk about?” asks Taehyung, his voice flat and empty.

 

“I’m sorry,” whispers Jungkook hoarsely as his heart squeezes at the other’s tone, it’s so unlike him. “ _ God _ , I’m  _ so sorry _ .”

 

“For what?” 

 

Jungkook’s mind scrambles at that. He looks at Taehyung, so small and.. _ wrong _ curled in on himself in the corner of the room.

 

“For everything.” he says finally, although he isn’t sure if that truly gets his meaning across. He’s at a loss for words where usually there would be none. He twists the sheets around his fists in irritation at his inability to speak.

 

(‘ _ For hurting you, _ ’ he hopes Taehyung hears, although for some reason, he can’t bring himself to say it. He hasn’t seen Taehyung lately, doesn’t know just how much he’s hurt him.).

 

“It’s fine.” Taehyung whispers, barely audible. 

 

(He knows damn well that it’s not.)

 

A tears begin to trace their way down caramel cheeks that look like porcelain under the moon, gradually streaming down his face, his shoulders shaking, and Jungkook feels his heart shatter for him all over again. 

 

“T-Taehyung...you’re crying.” he says numbly, and  _ God _ if he doesn’t feel like the worst, utter  _ trash _ of the  _ universe _ right now.

 

“I’m going to sleep. Wake me if they come back.” says Taehyung as he settles down on the floor, looking decidedly away from Jungkook and curling up on the floor, arranging his outer clothes as a makeshift bed.

 

Jungkook says nothing. 

 

(He doesn’t know what to say, what he has any right to say.)

 

He watches the rise and fall of Taehyung’s shoulders as they even out, nearly hypnotized.

 

Now he’s hurt Yejin, he’s hurting his friends, and he’s especially hurt Taehyung. 

 

(‘ _ There must be a special place in hell for people like me, _ ’ he thinks miserably.)

 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at Taehyung and thinking, but it’s some times when he can hear the sounds of the world waking up, and he realizes that he can’t stay here, can’t watch Taehyung suffering or sit and feel the weight of his own guilt and frustration.

 

He gently ghosts over to Taehyung, careful not to wake him. He lifts him gently, almost reverently, and tucks him into the bed.

 

He’s as beautiful as ever, even wrecked and asleep as he is. He thinks back to so many nights just like this one, when Taehyung looked so innocent and beautiful and perfect, completely unaware that Jungkook was observing him, (albeit a little creepily) but where Taehyung had craved his company, rather than wished he was alone.

 

It makes Jungkook feel very small, so very small and sad.

 

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear fondly, just like he always has, he begins to search for an alternate exit.

 

The window rattles as it’s jostled in the wind and Jungkook steels himself for one of his dumber ideas.

 

Sitting on the window ledge and grasping the tree branch in front of him, Jungkook allows himself one last glance at Taehyung, before he begins his descent.

 

(The walk home is long and cold.)

 

(His nose and fingertips aren’t the only things that feel as if they’ve been replaced by ice.)

****

**_..._ **

 

“Jeon Jungkook,” calls a voice from down the hall that he hasn’t heard since being locked in that room, what feels like forever ago. “We need to talk.”

 

“Hyung?” he asks in reply, his eyes wide and surprised as the older boy saunters into his room with his nose wrinkled. He wonders how Yoongi got into the house, although knowing Namjoon, he would have given him a spare key for when he accidentally locks himself out or needs urgent help with broken things.

 

He suddenly feels self conscious about the state of his room.

 

Clothes are tossed haphazardly on the floor in piles, sheets of homework and lyrics and choreography directions and game cheats lying crumpled among them. He lies sprawled across his bed, legs covered by blankets and one of Taehyung’s many forgotten hoodies warming his chest. His hair is matted and his acne prominent due to his lack of motivation to wash his face thoroughly.

 

“What did you do?” asks Yoongi calmly as he sits in the only apparently clear space left in the room, the edge of Jungkook’s bed. Jungkook’s eyes flick over the intrusion, pausing to identify the spot that Yoongi is occupying as Taehyung’s regular spot and nearly sighing aloud.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks, as he glances back to his laptop that’s paused in the middle of an anime and perched on one of his textbooks atop the bed.

 

This is the third time this week alone that he’s rewatched  _ Haikyuu!! _ .

 

(He tries not to recognize how pathetic this looks.)

 

“You know very well what I mean.”

 

“I really wish I didn’t,”

 

“How could you do this to Taehyung? The guy’s crazy about you and you just turn around and throw his feelings for you in his face.” 

 

“You think I  _ don’t know that?! _ ” Jungkook exclaims, his pain evident in his voice, almost making him cringe at the obvious way in which he is clearly breaking, the hollow feeling in his chest snapping back into place like a stretched rubber band and making him tense a the near physical pain in his chest.

 

“I’ve never wanted to hurt him. Not ever.”

 

“Then why do this?”

 

“Because I don’t know what to feel or how to do that...love thing.” sighs Jungkook, the tension still just under the surface, he resists the urge to run his hands through his hair in frustration.

 

(He remembers Taehyung’s little giggles as he’d told him about his nervous habit and winces slightly.)

 

“Meaning?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in a way that Jungkook knows can only mean he is being harshly judged.

 

Jungkook desperately tries to form words that can express how he feels.

 

“Tae’s...just.. _ Tae. _ He makes me so happy all the time and I just...I can’t screw that up. Especially if it turns out that how I feel is not... _ that _ . If he needs time to get over me so that we can still be friends then I’ll give it to him. I just...I can’t lose him.” He rambles, his eyes fixated on his covers as he twists them around his fists in frustration, again resisting the urge to ruffle his hair.

 

“So you’re telling me that even though you  _ know _ that he likes you, you’re not willing to try for a relationship because you’re _ too scared? _ ” Yoongi’s eyes widen in disbelief.

 

Jungkook wishes he could disappear. He doesn’t want to talk about this: not now, not ever, but he knows that Yoongi has his ways, and that it’s honestly easier for him to acquiesce to him than fight a losing battle.

 

Yoongi seems to war with himself, his eyes darting over him and around his room rapidly, before he snorts in half amusement and half disbelief, and sighs heavily.

 

“Ding!” he deadpans lazily, “Well, would you look at that? That would be my  _ bullshit detector _ .”

 

Jungkook gives him a dry look, finally dragging his face from the direction of the bed to look properly attentive, and notices Yoongi’s frustrated expression; his hands flexing like he’d rather strangle him than deal with whatever angsty bullshit he’s gotten himself into.

 

“You’re an idiot.” sighs Yoongi longsufferingly, the fight instinct seeming to slowly drain out of him, as if he decided that the fight that Jungkook would put up if he were to attempt to strangle him wasn’t worth it.

 

“How did you know you were in love with Jimin?”

 

Jungkook would like to think that he loves Taehyung. He knows him better than anyone else; almost cares about him more than his family. He feels wrong without him there, misses him desperately when they’re apart, even if they’d spent the whole day together or had only been apart for a few minutes.

 

He wonders if love is the right word for something like that. Having only been in one proper relationship (where he’s almost positive he didn’t love her), he doesn’t have much to go off of; can’t identify what it is that he feels right now.

 

He also knows that there isn’t an accurate scale he can just look at. He knows that everyone loves differently, has seen it in Yoongi’s silent support and Jimin’s soft smiles that are somehow different around Yoongi, has seen it in his brother’s boisterous laughs and the way he pays more attention to his girlfriend than anything else (anticipating any and all needs and public cuddling), has seen it in the dance that Jin and Namjoon have going on; circling endlessly, unwilling to label or make a move, has seen it in Hoseok’s willingness to help others and his bright smile; ready to do whatever necessary for those he cares about.

 

There’s also that chance that everything might change if he goes for it. That their dynamics will change and they will end up hating each other at the end of it, has seen it in his parent’s stilted smiles and long absences, has seen it in the way he has only seen one or the other at any given time at home, as if they’d spent so long together, that they just ran out of love to give.

 

(He remembers his part in that, he’d been young, and an innocent blabbermouth, and too small to understand. He remembers not understanding when, later, his parents came home, sent him to his room, and proceeded to have the loudest, most frightening argument he’d ever seen in his short seven years of life. But when he finds his mother in their room, crying miserably, he thinks he understands a little. Then his dad comes home less and everytime he does, his mother’s actions become stiff and angry. Everytime he does, his Hyung gets into a shouting match with him.

 

Jungkook stays quiet. It isn’t until much, much, later that he understands what all of it means. He gets his first taste of a thing called guilt. 

 

He never quite learns to forgive himself.)

 

“I just kind of...” Yoongi pauses, eyes thoughtful. “I just knew that there was no place I would rather be than next to him.”

 

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Yoongi’s. He needs to know what he really means. For a man of few words and limited emotional expression, like himself, his eyes are surprisingly expressive; their depths shining with whatever he feels just beneath the surface. This time, his eyes are warm and bright, as they always are when Yoongi talks about Jimin, filled with that softness that he hides so readily from the world, that affectionate light that he knows few ever really see. 

 

With that he relaxes, the tension leaving his shoulders with a visible sigh.

 

(He’s never really doubted that Yoongi loves Jimin. He can barely remember a time when that wasn’t just a universally acknowledged truth: water is wet, the sky is blue, Min Yoongi loves Park Jimin.)

 

He feels lonely and tired and _ so _ , so _ guilty _ and so many things that he feels he may burst before he manages to fix anything, anyways.

 

(He’s so confused, but he’s tired of hurting and hurting others. He’s done.)

 

“What do I do?” Jungkook breathes quietly; in barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

 

“I’m probably not the one you should be asking.” replies Yoongi with a shrug, but Jungkook knows just how true his statement is. He knows Yoongi’s track record with this sort of thing, it’s similar to his own after all.

 

“I’m going to the studio now. I hope you sort out your shit.”

 

And with that, Yoongi turns tail and saunters out the door.

 

“Thanks, Hyung” Jungkook sighs morosely, half-exhausted, half-bitter.

 

He knows Yoongi is probably gone already.

 

Just once though, he wishes that someone else would just tell him what to do, how to fix everything.

 

**_..._ **

 

Namjoon leaves him alone for the most part after the incident with the locked room, much to Jungkook’s relief.

 

He can see though, the pain in his eyes as he regards Jungkook, like he’s somehow to blame for part of it.

 

Jungkook hates it. He wants to tell him to stop, that it has nothing to do with him.

 

He chokes on the words every time.

 

He wonders how it all got so out of control, how one night could have so drastically altered his life.

 

(‘ _ Well that’s codependency for you. _ ’ he thinks with a shrug.)

 

(It’s not like he would have it any other way.)

 

But the atmosphere in the house is still stifling as hell. So he does the one thing that never fails to clear his head and allow him the peace and quiet to think.

 

He grabs his phone and headphones, queues up a playlist, and walks out.

 

Throughout his time with Taehyung, he’s learned the many markets, backstreets and riversides that dot this city, the way it comes to life and breathes, almost palpably in the ebb and flow of activity that happens here.

 

And that’s how he finds himself sitting entwined in a railing above a river, blasting music through his headphones.

 

He leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool metal railing and tries to consider Yoongi’s advice.

 

_ “So you’re telling me that even though you know that he likes you, you’re not willing to try for a relationship because you’re  _ too scared _?” _

 

“Damn it.” sighs Jungkook in irritation, his thoughts swirling.

 

Weeks ago, he’d thought he’d done the right thing, that in leaving him alone he could keep Taehyung with him without hurting him. That he could keep one of the people in his life that supported him the most, that cared about him the most, that he wanted there the most.

 

_ “I just kind of...I just knew that there was no place I would rather be than next to him.” _

 

“...shit” he hisses as he stands from his spot, it feels almost like it’s a tangible thing that’s  chasing him now, his stupid thoughts.

 

His pace picks up speed, until he’s no longer just walking away from his thoughts, but he’s running flat out, away from his clogged thoughts, from the things he’d rather not think about, from the feeling that he’s drowning on dry land.

 

“Hey! Watch it!” he doesn’t notice that he’s pushed through a group of three boys, knocking one into a fence, until there’s a fist in his face for it.

 

Disoriented, he tries to fight back, but it’s three against one, and he may be exceptionally strong, but three guys at once is pushing it, even for him.

 

“Hey guys. I think this is him.” says the tallest of them (and clearly their leader), suddenly.

 

“...him, who?” asks the one he’d knocked into a fence.

 

_ “Yejin’s ex,” _

 

Immediately, Jungkook notices the change in their demeanour. It goes from slightly annoyed, to positively homicidal.

 

_ ‘Well...shit.’  _ he thinks frantically.

 

Shoving him against a nearby wall, the three boys narrow their eyes at him.

 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her?” asks the leader, deathly quiet. “All she does is be  _ kind _ and  _ love _ people.”

 

Minion three punctuates the statements with a fist to the gut, but it has nothing on the guilt Jungkook feels.

 

It must show on his face, because after a couple more minutes of half-hearted tussling (or at least on his part) Jungkook is allowed to slide down the wall to sit.

 

“Pathetic. I don’t know what she ever saw in you.” spits the leader as he leaves, footsteps echoing as they crunch along the gravel ridden pavement.

 

Once the noise is gone, Jungkook takes stalk of his injuries. Blooms of black and blue now decorate his chest, although none of them very serious. Thankfully they hadn’t kicked him in the chest. He examines the bright blooms of colour along his arms and the roughed up state of his knuckles, like he’d sliced them open and dragged them through gravel. Rolling down the sleeves of his hoodie to cover his arms, he reaches up to check the source of the metallic taste in his mouth. He hisses slightly as his probing fingers come into contact with his split and bloodied lip.

 

It’s not as if he doesn’t deserve this though. He understands exactly how his actions look to people. He understands exactly why he is the scum of the earth, that he  _ needs _ to make his decision.

 

Because while this may have spared them all the pain before, it’s gone past the point of no return, and it’s too late to take back the things that have happened.

 

Heaving himself to his feet he resolves that he  _ really _ needs to talk to Yejin.

 

“Jungkook?!” a startled voice calls out, ringing in the stillness around them.

 

(Speak of the devil.)

 

“Hi Yejin.” he grimaces, bringing an arm up to wrap around his sore chest.

 

“What the hell happened to you?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

“Nothing. It’s not important.” He says, wincing when she lightly brushes his cheek. That guy really had socked him hard. “We need to talk.”

 

Yejin regards him for a moment, her eyes sad and tired.

 

“Yes,” she says finally “I suppose we do.”

 

**_..._ **

 

“Here,” says Yejin shortly, handing him an icepack that he presses to his cheek gingerly.

 

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” asks Yejin as she settles into the seat across from him, where he is seated at her kitchen table, the lights connected to her old ceiling fan flickering warmly every so often.

 

Jungkook sits in silence for another moment, trying to find the words. Words he knows have never been as important as they are right now.

 

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” he says “I never really treated you like you were my girlfriend. Honestly, I probably should have broken it off with you after high school.”

 

Yejin regards him for a moment, considering his words.

 

“I’m sorry, too” 

 

An ugly guilty feeling builds in his gut, though that’s nothing new.

 

“You don’t-”

 

“No, I do.” she says, as tears fill her eyes. “I knew. I always have.”

 

“You...knew?”  _ knew what? _

 

“That you’re in love with him. That you were and that you are and that you probably always will be.”

 

‘ _ What? _ ’ he thinks, completely bewildered. ‘ _ How can she know something that I’m not even sure of myself? _ ’

 

“I’m not in love with him,” he says, and the words burn his throat “I can’t be.”

 

Her eyes soften.

 

(If there is one thing he knows, it’s that Yejin is unfailingly kind. If not to herself, then to others.)

 

“Can I ask you one thing?” says Yejin finally

 

“Go ahead,”

 

“How do you feel about him then, if you aren’t in love with him?”

 

He pauses, a lump forming in his throat.

 

“I care about him a lot.” he says finally. “He’s my best friend and I love him very much.”

 

“I think you  _ are  _ in love with him.” says Yejin “I think you love him more than you know what to do with, more than you can handle.”

 

‘ _ She’s not wrong _ ’ he thinks

 

“You know, I had a massive crush on you then, back in school. I saw the way that Taehyung-Oppa looked at you, even then, and I knew I had to do something before he confessed.” The words spill from her lips in a rush, as if they can’t get out fast enough. “So I did it first. I wanted you, and I always got what I wanted. And then you were kind and wonderful and a model boyfriend.”

 

Suddenly, she stands to collect their tea from where it had been sitting on the counter steeping, if only to give her hands something to do.

 

“I knew you didn’t love me. That you were doing it to try out a relationship at first, and then later out of some sense of...obligation, especially after...the accident.”

 

She pours the tea from the worn teapot he’d gotten her three years ago on her birthday. He wants to say something, anything, but Yejin looks as if she is finally able to let out all of the things she’s been keeping locked inside her chest and he doesn’t want to ruin that for her.

 

But he remembers. He remembers the way she collapsed onto the ice in pain, a marionette with it’s delicate strings cut, the way she cried out. He remembers her mother’s face as she began to cry.

 

He remembers the hours of waiting in the hospital hallway, the stiff silences with her parents that were probably the most agonizing part of waiting. He remembers her, so small and unlike herself in that big hospital bed, with too much white and the sour smell of sterilizer pervading his senses. He remembers that she didn’t cry when they told her she’d never skate again, didn’t cry when they wheeled her off for corrective surgery, didn’t even cry when she was so hopped up on pain meds that she couldn’t even think straight.

 

It wasn’t until Jungkook returned to her room to grab his phone that he’d forgotten in his haste to return home and get her something to do, that he heard her broken and miserable cries.

 

He remembers feeling bad for being distracted, and even worse that he’d been spending the past few weeks working up the nerve to end things with her. There was absolutely no way that he could consider that anymore. 

 

But more than anything, he remembers the guilt; guilt that had swallowed him and forced him into a hard plastic chair in the hallway until his butt went numb.

 

“But you were still the perfect boyfriend, you never looked at others, you did everything that was expected of you as a boyfriend, but even now I can tell.” She pulls him out of his thoughts, wrapping her slim fingers around a mug delicately, pausing to take a sip of tea.

 

“After all this time, I still don’t know you.”

 

The thought that after all this time, Yejin feels she doesn’t know him is laughable. She always seems to know just what he wants and needs, without him ever needing to vocalize it. Likewise, he also knows her small habits and mannerisms. Like how she bites her nails when she gets nervous, or how she won’t eat steak without barbeque sauce, or how when her eyebrows draw together she is worried, or how she laughs when she’s happy.

 

His face must show his confusion, because she says,

 

“What are you going to do with your life? What do you dream about?.”

 

_ Oh. _

 

The things he’s never told anyone, she means, the things he’s whispered to his Hyungs a million years ago and then some, things he entrusted only to those closest to him. His greatest fears and most impassioned dreams. It’s now that he feels particularly like an overly large farm animal: large, slow, and dumb.

 

“Oh.” he says finally.

 

“To be fair, I haven’t really said anything either.” she shrugs “But that’s not the point right now.”

 

“And...what _ is _ the point right now?” he asks

 

“I shouldn’t have tied you to me with my accident. I was stupid and a teenager but that’s no excuse for keeping you here so long.” she pauses hesitantly before saying, “I don’t think either of us have cared about the relationship, honestly, in a long while.”

 

An awkward pause permeates the space between them. Jungkook swallows reflexively.

 

“I mean...I’ve never been what you wanted, hell, I wasn’t even what you needed. I was just...I was  _ easy _ .”

 

He knows exactly what she means. She had been easy to be with for the most part, not demanding and understanding of the bizarre dance that entangles him and Taehyung. She was  _ safe _ and maybe that wasn’t the best way to describe the relationship you had with your long time on-again-off-again girlfriend, but it was honest. More honest than he’d allowed himself in a while.

 

“So don’t blame yourself, because this is definitely not all on you.” she sighs, taking a sip of tea. “But the important thing is that it’s well and truly over for us now. For the right reasons this time.”

 

“You’re...very calm about this,” he says

 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since that party.” she shrugs.

 

“I have, too.”

 

“So what are you going to do now? Are you going to tell him you love him?”

 

He opens his mouth to deny it but she just sighs, rolls her eyes and cuts him off.

 

“Don’t even try to deny it. You know what this is, even if you won’t admit it. But this isn’t just about you anymore. This is about Taehyung-Oppa too.”

 

“I don’t know” he says lowly, eyes tracing the movement of the tea still in his cup. “I really screwed it up this time.”

 

“Well, why can’t you do it? You’re single, you love him, you want him and you  _ need _ him. What’s holding you back?”

 

He considers her words for a long moment, his head drumming to the steady underlying beat of  _ Why? Why? Why? _ that had always been there, just under the surface of his thoughts, churning along to the pace of his heart.

 

If he can stop Taehyung’s hurt, if he can acknowledge that something between them that’s always been there, can everything work out the way it was always supposed to?

 

There’s no more Yejin to hide behind, no more room for him to deny that he really  _ does _ love Taehyung, nothing holding him back, except for himself.

 

And he’s tired of holding it in.

 

Abruptly, he stands, jostling the table and his half-full mug of long-cold tea.

 

“I have to go.” he says, at her startled look “I have somewhere I should’ve been a long time ago.”

 

“You better get going then.” says Yejin, with a small, sad smile “You shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

 

**_..._ **

 

‘ _ I can do this _ ’ thinks Jungkook resolutely.

 

He darts down the familiar route from Yejin’s place to Taehyung’s.

 

It brings back memories that he had with Taehyung here, happy and free and young.

 

(It gives him courage to continue on.)

 

He winds around the block to Taehyung’s street and spots a flash of light brown hair and broad shoulders bobbing up stone steps.

 

(He’d know any part of Taehyung anywhere, anytime)

 

Heart pounding in his throat, he runs to catch up to him.

 

Even from here, he looks like sunshine and warmth and the other half of his whole, as he’s always been.

 

(Now it’s time for the hard part.)

 

(He should be worried that even the mere sight of Taehyung loosens something in his chest, filling him with the feeling that everything will end up alright.)

 

(He isn’t)

 

So he bounds up the steps like hell itself is on his heels, reaches out, grasps Taehyung’s wrist and sees warm earthy eyes for the first time in ages.

 

(He can’t help but feel like he’s finally come home.)

 

**_..._ **

 

It’s cold today, that much he knows. The kind of cold that sinks into your bones and lingers, making all your muscles seize uncomfortably. He wishes he was home, where his mom would wrap a scarf around his neck fondly, and kiss the top of his head despite his protestations, wishing him a good day at school.

 

He’s just moved to his fancy, new middle-school and doesn’t really know anyone yet, not to mention that he already has the reputation as “that new freaky country boy that skipped two grades”

 

The only exception being Park Jimin, who he’d met at a dance competition when they were younger, and stayed in contact with (but that’s a whole other story).

 

(He’s been told many times about Taehyung by this point. Jimin is best friends with the guy after all, and really, he’s intrigued to know more about the crazy boy that seems to unintentionally cause chaos everywhere he goes (or so Jimin believes for the most part, Jungkook is inclined to think that Taehyung just  _ wants _ everyone to believe that in order to get away with whatever he damn pleases), and that Jimin clearly cares about very much.)

 

Jimin, who has spent a solid three weeks ‘convincing’ Jungkook to join the dance club that he’s in, as they’re a couple members short, and he remembers his skills.

 

(In other words, Jimin threatened to prank him when he least expects it. After knowing Jimin for a while, and being on the receiving end of one or two of his subtle but terrifying pranks, suffice to say that Jungkook isn’t too eager to relive  _ those _ particular experiences anytime soon)

 

(Not that he wouldn’t have joined even if he hadn’t been threatened, but that’s besides the point.)

 

“Yah! Jungkookie!” grins Jimin as Jungkook makes his way into the room.

 

The many people warming up in small groups around the dance studio look up abruptly at Jimin’s exclamation. Jungkook mentally curses and tries to avoid looking people in the eyes as he bows politely and introduces himself.

 

(‘ _ Mom would be proud, I remembered my manners _ .’ He thinks.)

 

“Awww,” grins a taller thin faced boy that he will later learn is named Hoseok. “He’s so cute Jimin-ah, where’d you get him? You didn’t kidnap him, right?” Hoseok’s expression changes so many times during his speech, that Jungkook feels as if he’s getting whiplash.

 

“Nah, this brat I met at competition. He’s just moved here so I thought I’d introduce him to some people.”

 

Hoseok just grins blindingly in response, and just like that, Jungkook has several more friends; all at least a couple of years or so older than him, unfortunately.

 

They accept him into the club easily enough; true to form, they are low on competition members.

 

(“Whoa Jiminie! Why didn’t you tell me he was this good?” Hoseok exclaims as Jungkook auditions his piece, Jimin practically preening.)

 

And then Taehyung walks in with all of his drama club buddies, to see if any of the dance club want to join them to get a snack. He’s all cute chubby cheeks, and boxy grins filled with mischief, and that endless energy that Jungkook will later learn never fails to get them into trouble.

 

He can almost make out the literal rays of sunlight that radiate from his brown locks, mimicking a halo.

 

‘ _ He’s so cute _ ’ he thinks absently. He smiles at him shyly.

 

Taehyung trips on someone’s prone form as they cool their fevered body on the studio floor, sending him careening straight into Jungkook.

 

They land in an awkward heap on the floor, Taehyung’s elbows digging into his gut, their legs tangling.

 

(He’s sure there will be many, many bruises decorating his skin tomorrow)

 

“Oops,” giggles the caramel mass atop him “Sorry about that.”

 

He doesn’t look much stronger than Jungkook (which at this point really isn’t very strong at all), but he manages to pull him up effortlessly.

 

“Hi! I’m Kim Taehyung, it's very nice to meet you.” The grin he receives is blinding and box shaped and  _ very close to his face _ .

 

He doesn’t know yet that he’ll spend the better part of the rest of his life falling for him, doesn’t know that he will learn to associate all things Taehyung with safety and love and comfort and home.

 

So he just smiles his quiet smile in response. The one that crinkles his nose and makes his eyes squint.

 

“Jeon Jungkook.”

 

He notices that Taehyung smells like hot chocolate and feels warmer than even his mother.

 

Now, Jungkook doesn’t believe in fate (because passion and hard work are all he’s ever known to be reliable), but he can’t help but think that maybe he’s meant to be here.

 

(He feels like maybe he can find his home here.)

 

**_..._ **

 

Much, much later, after many moons of thinking and easy affection, of warmth and home, Taehyung will roll over in their bed.

 

“When did you first know you loved me?” he’ll ask.

 

Jungkook will sit for a moment. Then he’ll smile and pull Taehyung into his embrace with a warm smile.

 

“Remember when you tripped over someone and into my life...?”

 

Yeah, it’s cheesy, but neither of them care much, because Taehyung cuts him off with a gentle press of lips against his.

 

(Jungkook thinks that everything hinges on the exact moment he lays eyes on Kim Taehyung.)

 

(He’s right.)

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not be working on a second companion fic with the POVs of the other members of BTS.
> 
> We'll see.
> 
> Anyways, I have so many ideas and so little motivation and ability to write and share my vision so I hope you can bear with my ramblings until I can figure out a coherent narrative.
> 
> Thank you to all those who have supported my works and left kudos, comments, constructive criticism and otherwise, I love you all. 
> 
> (And BTS clearly)
> 
> Thanks!


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